


Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Budding Love, Curses, Dragon Mycroft, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Knight Lestrade, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Moonlight, No dragon sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do I make you nervous?”</p><p>“You're a bloody dragon, and you're talking to me and I came here to kill you, of course you make me nervous!” </p><p>---<br/>In which Greg is a knight who can't do his job, and Mycroft is a shape shifting dragon who made the wrong witch angry. Humor, romance, and chess playing ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Sleeping Dragons Lie

“Sir Lestrade.” The King stood as the knight came in to see him. “Your bravery and prowess has reached even my ears.” 

“Thank you, sire,” Greg said, kneeling, wondering why he'd been called into the King's chambers. 

“You may stand, Sir Lestrade.” The king moved over to his map table. “Are you aware of the ruins outside the great dark forest?”

“Yes sir. And the myth that belongs to them,” Greg said, following him over. 

“There is a dragon in those ruins. Has been for many years. We recently found a new source of iron here, not too far from those ruins. And it won’t do to have a dragon flying overhead.”

Greg paused. “So the myth is true. There is a dragon. And you'd like me to deal with the situation so we can build mines?” 

“Exactly. I’m sure you know what kind of boon it would be to the kingdom if we could use those resources.”

“Yes, sire, of course. I will leave as soon as I am properly outfitted.” 

“Good. Sending the army would signal that we’ve found something. I trust that you will solve the problem of the dragon.”

“Yes, Sire.” Greg bowed and left the castle, trying to figure out how to deal with a dragon. 

**

Mycroft was sunning himself on the roof of the ruined castle when he heard the telltale sound of approaching hooves. He raised his head and saw a knight approaching through the forest. Huffing, he went through a hole in the roof and into the castle’s great hall. Anthea would meet him at the door.

“Only one this time. Shall I chase him off?” Anthea asked, stepping in.

“Let him approach. If he's foolish enough to approach a dragon alone perhaps he might prove entertaining.”

“If you insist, sir,” Anthea shrugged. “He hasn't even a proper shield.”

“Interesting,” he rumbled, stretching out on his bed of gold. He'd found the castle’s old treasure vault, long forgotten by anyone, and quite liked the feel of the coins on his belly. “Show him in.”

“Show him in?” Anthea said doubtfully, but went down to the door anyway.

**

Greg dismounted a ways from the castle, setting his horse to graze. Hopefully, if anything went wrong, she'd break the ties and escape. 

He walked forward, then paused as the doors to the castle opened and a woman stepped out. “Ah...hello?” 

“Hello. May I ask your busines?”

Greg raised his eyebrows. “This your castle?” 

“Not mine, per se. But I’m safe within its walls.” Anthea looked him over. Tall, handsome, even if she wasn’t attracted to men she could appreciate his strong form. And while his armor was worn, he was clearly a knight. “I’m to show you in.”

“Who sent you? The owner of the castle?” Greg asked, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword as he came closer, following her in.

“He’s not the original owner, but it’s his now.” She gestured down a hall. “Go down there.”

Greg frowned, but did as he was bid, walking down the hall. He came to a set of massive doors, and looked back, seeing the woman was gone. “Bad idea, Greg,” he muttered, but pushed the doors open anyway, coming face to face with a massive blue eye. “Holy Mother,” he breathed. “I'm a dead man.” 

The dragon was long and winding, about the size of a small cottage, bronze scaled and winged. Greg took a small step back. “You wouldn't be the owner of the castle, now, would you?” Greg asked weakly, expecting teeth to tear through his flesh instead of an actual answer. 

“It is my present home,” said Mycroft, taking in the knight. “Come to kill me?”

Greg gaped, and then he nodded. “That was implied, but really, I'm just meant to ‘solve the problem’.” 

“And what problem is that?” Mycroft shifted, sending coins scattering.

“The dragon flying around at the far edge of the kingdom, stopping the king from mining the iron,” Greg said honestly. 

“I’m not stopping anyone from doing anything. Have you heard reports of me ravaging villages? Terrorising miners? Devouring whole flocks?” Mycroft lay his head down, watching the stranger with one eye.

“Well, stories yes. No reports,” Greg said, wondering how far he'd make it if he ran. “Listen. Are you going to eat me, or…? If you are, I'd like a fighting chance anyway. Be kind of you, you know?” 

“I don’t generally eat knights.” He gestured to a small pile of armor with his tail. “If they attack me first, well, that’s different.”

“So you're going to let me leave then?” Greg asked hopefully. “And I'll just tell the king...well. I don't know what I'll tell him actually.” He frowned, looking at Mycroft warily. 

“You could leave, though if you return to the King he’ll most likely send out a more bloodthirsty knight after me. Again.”

“Ahh. Yeah, likely. Wouldn't be too nice for me, either.” Greg whipped his head around at the noise of gold coins knocking together as the dragon moved his tail. 

“Do I make you nervous?”

“You're a bloody dragon, and you're talking to me and I came here to kill you, of course you make me nervous!” 

Mycroft sat up, coins and gold shifting underneath him. “Stay or go, it’s up to you. Anthea will make you up a room if you choose to stay. Or if you wish to kill me you may as well get on with it.” Mycroft’s tone was bored.

Greg swallowed hard, hand drifting to his sword. He pulled it free and shifted his footing on the uneven ground. Mycroft moved his head and Greg paused as he swung the sword, catching a flicker of something in the depth of Mycroft’s eye. Something lonely, knowledgeable. Something human. 

“I can't,” Greg sighed. “Right. Well, if you're not going to eat me then.” He slid his sword back into the scabbard. “Anthea met me at the door?” he asked. “Or are there other people here?” 

“Just her. And she isn’t always here.” Mycroft lay his head down again, watching him.

Greg backed away, not taking his eyes off Mycroft till he made it into the hall again. “Gods…”

“Staying?” asked Anthea, appearing beside him.

Greg yelped, heart skipping a beat as his hand went to his sword. “Yes,” he gritted out. “He...she...the dragon said you'd fix me a room?” 

“He. You didn’t ask his name?”

“I was a bit distracted by the large dragon having a conversation with me,” Greg said. “So no, I didn't ask for his name.” 

Anthea harrumphed and led him down a narrow corridor. “But you stayed.”

“Didn't really have a choice did I?” Greg asked. “Anthea, right? I'm Sir Gregory Lestrade.” 

“You are not a prisoner here. And yes.”

“I'm not exactly free though either.” 

“That's up to you.” She opened a door. “This will be your room.”

“Thank you, milady,” Greg said. “Ah. Rules for me?” 

“I'm not your servant. Clean up after yourself, empty your own chamber pot and if you wish to eat with us come when you're called.”

“Yes ma’am.” Greg shut the door as she walked away, and went to sit on the bed, a warm fire crackling in the hearth. “What have I got myself into now,” he muttered, taking his packs which had apparently magically appeared in his room. He stripped off his armor and took out his sword and started cleaning and polishing them. 

**

Mycroft stretched his wings as Anthea came in. “What do you think of him?”

“I like him. Do you want to see what he's doing?” Anthea asked, walking over to a bowl of water in the corner of the treasure room. 

“Please.”

Anthea nodded and swirled the water, pulling up the picture of Greg in his room, polishing his chest piece. 

“He is handsome,” rumbled Mycroft, a bit of sadness in his voice.

“And he didn't run,” Anthea said quietly. “There's a full moon in six weeks. You could...show yourself.” 

“If he’s still here, perhaps. The weather will be growing colder soon.”

“Yes it will. But he is under the impression he is a prisoner here, though I did tell him otherwise.” 

“As did I,” Mycroft huffed. “I don’t care if the king wishes to mine.”

“You are a dragon though,” Anthea reminded him. “You may not care, but you will certainly frighten people.” 

“I frighten everyone. Save you. And that’s only because I rescued you as a child.”

Anthea cracked a small smile. “Yes sir. Of course, that may have been because you ate my tormentors. I could only ever see you as a hero. I'll leave the spell up for you. You can watch him.” 

“Thank you.” He extended a wing and gently brushed back her hair. She could never love him in a way to break the spell, but that was okay. Perhaps this new knight might somehow see past the dragon.

Anthea smiled wider. “I'm going out to tend the sheep. Someone has to put more than gold on the table, sir.” 

“I’m afraid my hands aren’t as skilled as they once were,” he said, looking down at his massive claws.

Anthea chuckled. “It is fine, sir. Perhaps one day soon they will be,” she said knowingly, glancing at the bowl.

Mycroft watched her go, then settled down to watch, admiring the knights strong body as he took off his shirt

**

Greg fell asleep, unable to shake the feeling he was being watched as the castle settled around him. 

He woke a few hours later, and moved from his bed taking a candlestick to light his way, unable to sleep. 

Mycroft awoke at the light, sensitive to any change in his ruin. 

Greg paused, hearing the sound of a small tapping, and the slide of something heavy on the stone floor. “Hello?” he called, glancing around, unable to see far past his small pool of light. 

“Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘let sleeping dragons lie’?”

Greg jumped, turning in a circle. “Where are you?” he asked, looking for where the rumbling voice had come from. 

Huffing, Mycroft’s tail swung out to tap the knight on the shoulder.

Greg jumped again. “You're really not being very nice,” he muttered, turning and holding the light high. 

“What’s your name? Knight foolhardy enough to wander about a ruin you know contains a dragon, at night?”

“Sir Gregory Lestrade,” Greg said. “And you are the dragon called something, however as we haven't been introduced, I'll let you tell me rather than guess. And is there a way to shake hands that won't be painful for me?” 

Mycroft stretched out one claw and set it close by him.

Greg swallowed, but reached out gingerly, and shook the claw. “Your name?” 

“Mycroft. pleased to meet you, perhaps.”

“An honor,” Greg said, giving a small bow. 

“So tell me, Sir Gregory, why are you still here?”

“Because I cannot leave,” Greg said, releasing the claw and standing straight. 

“There are no locked doors keeping you here.”

“But you're alive,” Greg said. “And if I go back without your head I am ruined. And if I go back with your head...I do not think I'd be able to handle the shame.” 

“Unusual sentiments.”

“I've never met a knight who would refuse to slay a dragon,” Greg said, huffing. “Have you, beside myself?” 

“Most just come charging in here like hell itself is on their heels. Not all of them get past Anthea.”

“Right. Well, they're stupid, but they're also somewhat right,” Greg said. “Knights don't fail their quests or their morals. Unfortunately for me, one contradicts the other this time.” He turned away. “I'm going back to my chambers.” 

“Do you play chess?” asked Mycroft to his back.

“Do I play chess?” Greg asked, stopping. “Yes, I do...why?” 

Mycroft nudged a board forward, already set up as it gathered dust in the corridor. “Would you care to play with me?”

Greg turned around, seeing a chessboard now sitting in the middle of the hall. “Ah...I can play with you. But how…” he shook his head. “Yes. I would like that.” 

“You can go first.”

Greg nodded and moved a pawn, noticing the scrapes and scratches on each piece. 

Carefully as he could, Mycroft moved his own pawn with one claw.

“Have you always played chess?” Greg asked, moving another. 

“Since I was small, yes.”

Greg quirked a smile, watching as Mycroft shifted a knight. 

“So tell me about yourself, knight?”

“What would you like to know, dragon?” Greg replied, looking up at Mycroft as he moved another pawn. 

“How did you take up this duty? Wanted glory? Adventure?”

“And if it was neither?” Greg frowned. 

Mycroft looked at him. “Family obligation?”

“Yes,” Greg replied. “Three brothers. I'm the second. It was this or priesthood. I feel for the third, he only ever wished to be a knight, but was stuck with working under them.” 

“Why not allow him to become a knight then and chose the priesthood?”

“If I didn't believe in dragons until I arrived here, do you think I'd believe in God? I wouldn't live my life a lie.” 

“But wouldn’t that have given your brother the chance to do what he wished?”

“No. My father wouldn't allow him the knighthood. It was discussed, believe me,” Greg huffed. “More than once.” 

“Must have been difficult. For both of you. Alas, our order of birth is not our choosing.”

Greg nodded. “May I ask a question?” 

“You are certainly free to do so.”

“Do you have a family?” 

“I did, once. I have not seen them in a very, very long time.”

“Can't you go back?” 

Mycroft gave a small snort, steam coming out his nose. “Like this? No.”

“Like what? I don't understand,” Greg asked. “Are you wrong for a dragon or something? Is that why you're hidden away here?” 

“My people have the ability to shift at will. I no longer do. It’s a long story.” he looked at the board and moved a bishop.

Greg blinked. “So...you are human?” 

“Not quite. I appear human only on the night of the full moon, now.”

“You were human once, then? And now you're stuck as a dragon? “ 

“If you call a family that can shapeshift at will ‘human’.”

“That's...amazing,” Greg breathed. “Mycroft, really. Wait...why are you...stuck?” 

“It’s a curse,” he said softly. “I’ve hidden myself away because I became my family's shame and who the hell wants a dragon around anyway.”

“Anthea doesn't seem to mind,” Greg said. He reached out and laid a hand on Mycroft’s massive paw. “And as long as you don't eat me, I don't mind either.” 

“I rescued her as a child and she’s found safety here. You’re only here because your King sent you after me.” Mycroft pulled away and retreated away from the knight, not wanting to give himself hope.

“Have I made you angry?” Greg asked, drawing back. 

“Not at all,” said Mycroft softly, sadly. “There is only one way to break the curse and I’ve long since given up any idea of it happening.”

“What is it?” Greg asked. “Can I help?” 

Mycroft gave a deep, bitter, laugh. “Someone must romantically love me.”

“Oh…I..Anthea?” Greg suggested quietly.

“Men are not her interest. And she sees me more more as a father.”

“So you have to find someone, or you're stuck like this forever?” Greg asked. “Except on the nights with a full moon.” 

“Indeed.”

“Can you go out during the night and try to find someone? Do they have to mean it before the curse will break?” 

“Where am I going to go? And get back before the moon sets? I could find a tryst perhaps but not enough to break the spell. I am as I am, Gregory.”

“Then I'm sorry for you,” Greg said quietly. “You are as you are, but you are not happy like this, are you?” 

“Not particularly but why should you care? You came to kill a dragon.”

“I came to solve a problem,” Greg said quietly. “The killing was assumed.” 

“You are not a prisoner here. You may stay or go.”

“I'm staying. I've already said,” Greg shrugged. 

“If you feel like more late night chess, let me know.”

Greg nodded. “I will.” 

Mycroft watched him go, setting back down to try and sleep. 

**

Greg woke the following morning to a knock at the door, but when he went out there was no one there. He shrugged, and went to find the kitchen.

Anthea was putting the finishing touches on breakfast. “Morning.”

“Hello. Will Mycroft join us?” 

“I usually eat in his chamber. He won't fit in the hall.”

“All right. Can I help you?” Greg asked. 

“If you like, that's his,” she said, pointing at an overflowing platter. 

Greg chuckled, and lifted the platter, muscles tensing.

She led the way. Mycroft was stretching in the early sunlight. 

“Morning,” Greg said, setting the platter down by Mycroft's head with a smile. “Warm enough?” 

“For now. It's growing cooler soon.”

“Sunlight is nice though,” Greg said, sitting down. “Do you mind?” he asked, leaning against Mycroft’s side. 

Mycroft blinked. “No, it's fine.” He tucked his wing back.

Anthea glanced at them, but said nothing, handing Greg his plate. “Thank you, milady.” 

She gave a small smile and took her usual seat atop a cleverly melted hunk of armor, shaped into an armchair. 

Greg ate, feeling the shifting of Mycroft’s muscles as he ate, tossing his head back. 

Mycroft was well aware of his new guest as he ate, but there was no delicate way for a dragon to eat. 

“This is very good,” Greg said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you,” said Anthea. 

“Anthea tends sheep and some cattle.”

“Oh? I didn't see them on my way up, where are they?” 

“On the other side. There are more ruins that are nearly gone to earth.”

“I'll have to explore the castle more,” Greg said. 

“Feel free to roam,” said Mycroft, “though you'll find this portion more stable.”

“You'll have to rescue me if I get stuck in a crumbling tower,” Greg joked. 

“Just make sure you don't get buried somewhere I can't hear you.”

“How good is your hearing?” Greg asked, curious. 

“Quite. And I often sun myself on the roof.”

“Must be a nice view,” Greg said. 

“It is. Occasionally I fly, but I don't terrorize the populace.”

Greg hummed. “Would be nice to be up there, you know? Might be cold for me, but sounds fun.” 

“Would you like to come up?”

Greg grinned. “Really? Yeah!” 

Mycroft chuckled and lowered his head. “Climb on.”

Anthea took Greg’s plate and Mycroft’s platter out of the way as Greg scrambled carefully up, seating himself on Mycroft’s neck. “This all right?” 

“That’s fine. Just hold on.” He stood and stretched, making sure Gregory was situated before leaping up into the air.

Greg bit back a gasp, leaning down and grabbing at Mycroft’s neck as best he could. “Whoa. Bit different than a horse!” 

“I should hope so.” Mycroft gave a couple flaps of his wings and landed on his favorite spot to sun.

Greg dismounted carefully. “It is nice up here,” he said. 

“The forest stretches on for miles. The nearest village is there. And I see your King is setting up work already.” The space had once been a roof and a bit of a lookout.

Greg stretched. “Can’t see. Do you mind if I climb up?” 

“It’s fine.”

Greg climbed carefully up, standing on Mycroft’s shoulders. “I can't believe he's sent people out. You'll have to be careful flying around.” 

“I’m not foolish enough to fly in that direction. I’ll lay low up here.”

“He's going to send people here. Other people.” 

“And they’ll no doubt try to kill me.”

Greg nodded and slid down, sitting and leaning against Mycroft again. “I'm sure of it.” 

“Are you comfortable?”

Greg froze. “Ah...sorry. I didn't realize I was you know….you're just. I've gotten used to you already. You're really just like a large stuffed toy. That moves. And has wings and teeth?” he said hesitantly. “And plays chess.” 

“That is a very interesting description of me. And it’s fine.”

“Well what would you you rather I describe you as?” Greg asked, daring to tease as he relaxed against Mycroft again.

“They used to say I was very cold. The ice pr...the ice man.”

“Who is they?” Greg asked. “If you're this friendly as a dragon, I'd hardly think you're that bad as a human.” 

“I’ve had many years alone now. And I am cold, and calculating and methodical.” 

“And it makes you a good chess player,” Greg remarked. “If you are really all those things, why didn't you just kill me, instead of giving me a chance?” 

“I only attack those who attack me first. or perhaps it was a moment of foolishness.”

“Probably the last one,” Greg shrugged. “Any plans to remedy that?” 

“Which?”

“Killing me.” 

“Not particularly.”

“I appreciate it,” Greg said, leaning back against Mycroft. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you for the company.”

“Anthea doesn't come up here with you?” 

“Sometimes. But she prefers the woods.”

“Is she, um...not a dragon, but something?” Greg asked hesitantly. 

“She’s human, but she has gifts of her own.”

“Ah. I understand,” Greg said. “You told me you saved her. Can you share?” 

“She was only a child, being pursued by those who would destroy her for her talents. Desperate, she sought refuge here, rousing me. I saw what was happening and took care of those attacking her.

“So you are her family now,” Greg said, nodding. He yawned quietly. “She's an interesting woman. I'll admit the way she looks at me sometimes is like she's planning something. Not sure what.” 

Mycroft chuckled. “She’s very protective of me.”

“Aren't you supposed to be the frightening dragon?” Greg chuckled, then yawned again. 

“You don’t want to see Anthea angry.”

“Does she breathe fire?” Greg asked. “Wait, do you?” 

“Maybe.”

“Maybe! What do you mean maybe?” Greg asked, moving forward and turning to stare Mycroft down. “Right. Out with it. Fire or no fire?” 

“From me or Anthea?”

“Both?” 

“Me, a bit, her, not that I’ve seen.”

Greg grinned. “Will you show me sometime?” 

“I very well may. We’ll see.”

“What if I ask very nicely?” 

“Not right now. No need to draw attention to myself.”

Greg nodded. “That makes sense,” he said, a bit disappointed, but understanding. “You know when I was a kid...well, never mind.” 

“Hmm?”

Greg flushed slightly. “Bit embarrassing really… See when I was a kid, I used to pretend a dragon would come and attack my home. And I’d be the only one who could deal with it. I didn't want to kill the dragon though, I wanted to take it, so I could fly everywhere and save loads of people. Like I said. Embarrassing. Since you're a dragon.” 

“I think it's sweet.”

Greg snorted. “You think it's sweet?” 

Mycroft ducked his head and stretched his wings. “All I ever thought of was securing my power and my place.”

“Your place? Are you from a noble family too?” Greg asked. 

“Something like that.”

“You don't say much,” Greg said, sitting back down and looking at Mycroft. 

“Old habit, to keep my cards close to my chest.”

Greg frowned. “Well, I'm hardly going to tell anyone.”

“I suppose not. And I also suppose any dreams I had are long since dust.” 

“You have to have a dream of some sort, Mycroft. Otherwise, what's the the point in living?” 

Mycroft gave a great shrug. “Anthea, I suppose.”

“Anthea?” Greg asked. “Why do you say that?” 

“She would be upset if I were gone.”

“You are her family. She cares for you.” 

“And what of you?”

“Well, you haven't been truly unkind yet, except for a bit frightening, and I ‘d like to play chess with you again. I'd say that makes us friends?” 

“That is unusual.” Still, Mycroft covered him slightly with one wing.

“Do that I might fall asleep,” Greg warned, but settled into the curve of Mycroft's wing. “Didn't sleep much last night, someone wanted to play chess.” 

“Nobody told you to go wandering the corridors.”

“No one told me I couldn't,” Greg retorted. 

“True.” Mycroft was growing drowsy as the sun soaked into his scales.

Greg yawned again. “You're warm, Mycroft,” he murmured.

“Yes. You can sleep, I probably will as well.”

“Mm, good.”

**

Greg was prowling around the ruined half of the castle about two weeks later, trying to devise a new strategy for chess when he made a large mistake. The type of mistake that sent him plummeting into a dark hole when the rotted floor broke away, far from any light. “Shit,” he cursed, not even hearing the scrabble of rats. “Hello! Anthea? Mycroft! Help!” 

No one replied, and Greg sat down, hoping someone would come looking for him.

**

“Sir? Have you seen Gregory lately?” Anthea asked. 

“He’s not in his room?” asked Mycroft.

“I'd assumed he was out in the pastures again, but he isn't. Have you not seen him in the bowl?” 

“I hadn’t been looking.” Mycroft shifted, worry trickling down his spine.

“Well, we’ll see,” Anthea said, walking over to the bowl. “Oh….” 

“What’s the matter?

“It's dark,” Anthea muttered, pushing the water around. “I'm trying to get rid of it but it's not working. He has to be in the dark somewhere.” 

“Fell down some crumbling part of the castle I suppose. Can you feel where?”

Anthea shut her eyes. “Under the old cellar,” she said after a bit. 

“Can you reach him or do I need to get him?”

“Can't tell. You should come,” Anthea said, opening her eyes. “Come on.” 

Mycroft nodded and followed her, squeezing down a narrow hall.

“You're going to knock another wall out,” Anthea muttered. “Tuck your wings in.” 

Mycroft grumbled and obeyed, sniffing for Greg’s scent.

“He's close, but I don't hear anything,” Anthea said, looking around. “I think he fell through the floor. We’re above him somehow. You might be too heavy for the floor too.” 

“If he is, I almost certainly am. Should I fetch a rope?”

“Good idea.” 

Mycroft carefully backed out of the tunnel and went to fetch a rope they kept on hand for emergencies.

Greg heard the floor creaking and he stood. “Hello! Can you hear me? Mycroft? Anthea?” 

“We’re here,” called Anthea. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Just clumsy!” Greg called back. “Do you have a way to get me out? I'm very far down.” 

“Mycroft is fetching a rope.”

“Wonderful. Do you know where I am exactly? A cellar or the like?” 

“Undercellar.” She cast a simple spell and a light drifted down. 

“Thanks,” Greg said. “Hmm. Those are bones,” he muttered. “Wonderful.” 

Mycroft returned with the rope. “Is this long enough?”

“He's a ways down,” Anthea replied. “Turn around, and give me your tail. I'm going to tie the rope on, so neither of us walks across the floor.” 

Mycroft obeyed her, bracing himself. 

Anthea knotted the rope around Mycroft's tail, and then knotted it at the end. “Ready Gregory?” 

“Yeah.” 

Anthea tossed the rope, and it slithered down.

“Oi! Got it,” Greg shouted, rubbing his head. “Right, gimme a minute. Okay! Pull!” 

Mycroft carefully stepped back through the corridor, grunting slightly at the pull on his tail.

Greg held tight, the walls too slippery for him to brace against. “I'd say I owe you a drink, but I'm not sure I have the amount of gold it would take to get you drunk, Mycroft.” 

“Well if you see a good aged cask down there, grab it.”

“I'll find a ladder and come back down. There's quite a bit of stuff down here.” 

“I’d imagine so.”

Greg groaned as he scrambled over the lip and laid on the ground. “Thanks for finding me.” 

“You’re welcome,” said Anthea, going to free Mycroft’s tail.

“How did you anyway?” Greg asked, sitting up. 

Anthea shrugged. “I have abilities.”

“Right. Magic,” Greg said. 

Anthea nodded. “I prefer to keep it quiet. It nearly got me killed.”

“Sorry people are so...well.” Greg shrugged. 

“There are many reasons why I stay here, Sir Lestrade. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Greg looked down and grimaced at the sludge covering himself. “Right. To the baths then.”

They went back and Greg parted from the other two, heading to the bathing rooms. He stripped down, and sank into the bubbling hot spring with a groan.

Mycroft started to watch in the bowl, then, changing his mind he went to the entrance of the springs. “Are you well, Gregory?”

“Yeah,” Greg called back. “Hey, can you fit in here?” he asked curiously. 

“A bit.” He squeezed his head and neck in through the door. “I like to come down here sometimes on my human nights.”

“It's nice,” Greg said rubbing a bit of the soap Anthea had given him through his hair. “I bet they built the castle here because of this.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was a factor.” Mycroft watched him, thinking how handsome he was. Sure, he was a little bit older, but Mycroft was long since young himself. “I...was a prince.”

“Figured that, actually,” Greg said. “You act a bit more than noble. Any chance of going back?” he asked, sending Mycroft a kind look. 

“Perhaps if the curse is broken. But I doubt my place is still there.”

“You have brothers?” 

“One younger. And a number of cousins that would be just a likely to vie for the throne.”

“Well, you have a castle here, and enough gold to fix it up. Might be something to consider when the curse is broken,” Greg said. “I'm sure someone will love you one day, Mycroft.” He smiled. He’d grown accustomed to Mycroft’s presence, and was feeling himself growing more and more appreciative of the man. If he didn't know better, he’d say he was steadily developing feelings. But knowing that Mycroft was waiting for a maiden to fall for him, to break his curse, ruined any chance he'd give himself to explore what could be something. He was the broken one, the odd man who felt for other men what he didn't feel for the women he should have been courting. “I'm sure you will find a maid to truly see you.” 

Mycroft gave a sad sort of snort. “Maidens don’t interest me any more than men interest Anthea.”

Greg paused, looking over to him. “I see,” he said quietly. 

“I always knew I’d have to marry, for my throne and my kingdom. That was why I was cursed. The woman I had begun to court found out my….proclivities. I already had a reputation for coldness and she felt she was just another pawn to me. And perhaps she was.”

Greg nodded. “She was the one who cursed you then?” 

“I’m not sure. Someone she knew, I think.”

Greg shifted, turning to face Mycroft. “Why are you? Cold? Was it because of your place?” 

“Probably. Thought I wouldn’t blame anyone but myself. I saw my father, I saw my scheming cousins. I knew I’d have to consolidate my power. There was no room in my life for anything soft or vulnerable. Every breath I took I had to consider where I was and who I was with. If I cared for anyone it was my younger brother, but he spurned me from an early age and lost himself in his books.” Mycroft shrugged and dipped a large foot into the nearest spring, feeling the heat soak in. “As I said, I made my own choices.”

Greg reached out and brushed a hand over Mycroft’s front claw. “You've made a choice, but that doesn't mean you can't make a new one.” 

“You’re a good man, Gregory.”

“So are you, Mycroft.” 

“That makes you and and Anthea who think so.” Mycroft rest his chin on the ground.

“Well there's not many more people around,” Greg teased. 

“There will be a full moon in another week. I’m not nearly so magnificent in my human form.”

“Yeah, but I'd still like to meet you in your human form,” Greg said with a smile. 

“Soon. Rest, Gregory, I’ll see about supper.”

“Will do, My.” Greg winked at him and turned back, sinking low into the water with a yawn. 

**

Mycroft found himself anxious as he felt the moon about to rise. He’d shut out both Anthea and Greg, curling up in a corner of his pile of gold for the transition. It was painful, unlike the change had been before the curse.

“He gonna be all right?” Greg asked, concerned for Mycroft as he and Anthea stayed in the hall just outside the gold room. 

Anthea nodded. “I offered to give him something to ease the pain, but he seems to feel he deserves it, as part of the curse. I think it’s because he spends so much time in his dragon form that his body forgets how to be human.”

“How badly does it hurt him?” Greg asked. 

Anthea started to speak, interrupted when a muffled cry could be heard. Greg was pushing open the door before she could stop him.

Greg rushed in, seeing Mycroft writhing at the far end, shrinking, scales falling to the ground and shattering. He went and ducked as Mycroft’s tail nearly hit him in the head, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s neck and laying on top of him. “It's almost over, I can feel you getting smaller,” he muttered, Mycroft's skin radiating heat, nearly burning him. “You’re all right. Pains nearly gone.” 

Mycroft was shaking by the time it was over, strangely comforted by Greg’s weight as he tried to compose himself, tears falling silently.

“You okay?” Greg asked quietly, moving awkwardly off the nude man, only barely stopping himself from reaching out to wipe the tears away. 

Mycroft turned his face away, still shaking a bit. “I will be, yes.”

“Hey. You have no reason to be ashamed,” Greg said, voice gentle. “I understand that you're hurting, and there is no shame in showing it.” 

“If I was a different man then I wouldn’t have been cursed this way.”

“If you were a different man, then much would have been different. But it would have been a shame,” Greg said, reaching out, turning Mycroft to face him and meeting his eyes. “For I would never have known you then.” 

Mycroft searched his eyes. “What do you mean?” he said softly.

“I mean that I've grown very fond of you, Prince Mycroft,” Greg replied. 

Mycroft’s breath caught. “Nobody has called me that in a very long time. And I...I’ve grown fond of you as well.”

“Let's get you something to eat, shall we?” Greg said, thumb drifting down over Mycroft’s cheek, brushing a stray tear away. “And a drink. And then we have until the sun rises to speak, don't we?” 

“We do.” Mycroft fetched some clothes he kept on hand and pulled them on, feeling strength slowly returning to his bones. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Greg said, watching him dress. He stood and went over, holding the cloak up. “Can I help?” he murmured, stepping close to Mycroft’s back, holding it up. “I want to,” he breathed, leaning in to Mycroft’s ear. “I find there are many things I wish-” 

He was interrupted by a shout from Anthea. “There are soldiers coming!” 

“For fucks sake!” Greg cursed, stepping away. “Now?” 

“How many?” asked Mycroft.

“Ten!” Anthea replied. “I can't take this many on my own!”

“You don't have to,” Greg snapped, stalking over to where his sword was stashed and pulling it out. “Mycroft. You might need to be a prince for a moment. Can you handle that?” 

Mycroft drew himself up to his full height. “Yes.” He wondered what Greg’s plan was.

“Okay. Go into the great hall with Anthea, start a fire. Stay there.” Greg strode out, standing on the steps doors shut behind him. 

“Excuse me. Your business?” he called, sword drawn. 

“Sir Lestrade! You hadn’t returned, so it was assumed the dragon had destroyed you.”

“I am fine. The dragon has been dealt with,” Greg said. “You should leave. I returned the rightful owner of this place to his seat and accepted his hospitality as was my due.” 

“What rightful owner? This place has been abandoned for centuries.”

“A man. Sent into a sleep by the dragon. He awoke when the dragon dissolved to dust,” Greg lied. “He is the true owner of this place, and it has been proven by papers and sworn upon the holy book.” 

There were murmurs amongst the soldiers. “Well then, take us to him.”

Greg nodded, and sheathed his sword. “A moment then to notify him, before I escort several armed soldiers into his hold.”

Greg turned and went back inside. “Mycroft, they think you were sent to sleep by the dragon and are truly centuries old. Anthea, can you be his lady, and can you create some old papers to say he is the rightful lord? They must be very old.” 

Anthea and Mycroft shared a look. “Give us ten minutes.”

Greg nodded. “I will delay them.”

He turned and went back out. “The Lord will see you,” he announced. “But first, tell me, your names and ranks so I can introduce you properly.” 

“I am Sir Ulster.” The knight leading the group named his soldiers one by one. By the time he finished a bit more than ten minutes had passed, and Greg was stifling a yawn.

“Very well,” Greg said. “Come in.” He pushed the doors open and lead them in, seeing Mycroft and Anthea waiting. “Mi’lord. May I introduce your guests?” He listed the names, and then bowed. 

“I understand that much has changed since my time,” said Mycroft, looking the soldiers over. “I wish no quarrel with your king. I ask only that I be left alone here to rebuild.”

“He is a good man, treated badly by the beast,” Greg said. “He and his lady wish to be left alone. The mining can continue of course.” 

Mycroft nodded and went to the table. “Here are my documents of ownership. If the King wishes to send someone to verify, he’s more than welcome to.”

“I am sure that this will be done,” Greg said. “Until then, gentlemen?” 

“My men have had a long journey.”

“Of course,” said Mycroft. “Anthea, will you show our guests where they can rest?”

Anthea nodded and led the men out. Greg turned to Mycroft. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “They cannot stay after sunrise. You'll change, Mycroft!” 

“I think maybe I won’t,” Mycroft said, meeting Greg’s eyes.

Greg groaned, glaring at him. “The person who breaks the curse. Do you have to love them back?” 

“But I already do. Do...you don’t feel that way about me?”

Greg just stared at Mycroft for a moment, then strode forward with two great thudding steps, taking Mycroft’s face in his hands, slamming their lips together as his heart pounded. “Yes.” he said as they broke apart. “I think I love you, Mycroft. I do.”

Mycroft’s breath caught, then he nearly tackled Greg, kissing him, licking into his mouth, heart aching with love and with need.

Greg groaned under the onslaught, stumbling back and slamming into the wall. “Mycroft, not here,” he muttered. “The soldiers.” 

Mycroft took his hand and tugged him out a side door. He led him through a few corridors until they ended up in a garden, running half-wild. “Will this do?”

“Yes,” Greg said, turning into him, kissing him again. “God yes.” 

Mycroft pulled him down on top near some fragrant flowers, not even minding the rough landing. “I hoped, since the first moment I saw you.”

“You wanted me? Were you watching me?” Greg panted, fighting to untie Mycroft's cloak. 

“Yes. And then playing chess. You make me want to show myself.”

“Show yourself?” Greg asked, pushing it open with a huff of success. 

“I don’t want to be cold to you.”

“Then don't be. Show yourself. Be mine?” Greg said, pausing to meet his eyes.

Mycroft met his eyes and felt his heart glowing with love. “I am yours, Gregory Lestrade.” He felt something shifting inside of himself, as if his body were remembering something long forgotten.

Greg exhaled slowly, and leaned down, pressing their lips together. “And I am yours,” he whispered. “And the moon will know, even if no one else would have us.” 

“Take me.”

“Yes, Mycroft.” 

Mycroft shoved his trousers down. Reaching over, he broke a plant, releasing an oil with a pleasing scent.

“You're brilliant,” Greg chuckled, leaning back and stripping his shirt off, skin prickling in the chilly air. “I want to see you open yourself for me. C’mon, love. Show me.” 

Mycroft moaned and watched him, spreading his legs for Greg as he pressed two slender fingers inside himself, licking his lips.

“Gorgeous,” Greg muttered, reaching forward and caressing Mycroft’s thigh. 

Mycroft moaned again. Greg’s touch was hot on his skin.

“That's it,” Greg said, watching him. He reached over, slicking one of his fingers, and pressing it gently in alongside Mycroft's, marveling at the stretch of his body and the tight heat. 

Mycroft gave a low cry. “Gregory,” he whispered, spreading himself wider for him, rocking against his finger.

“Gorgeous, Greg repeated. “All for me.” 

“Take me, please.”

“What if I want to tease you instead?” Greg asked, dragging his finger along Mycroft’s walls. “What if I want to make this last all night, take you slowly, gently? I want to make love to you, Mycroft. Let me,” he said, laying over Mycroft, kissing his throat. 

“Whatever you wish. I’m yours.” He writhed underneath him.

“We have as long as we want,” Greg breathed, pushing Mycroft’s legs apart. “Anything I should know?” 

Mycroft shook his head. “Nothing I can think of. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Greg smiled, and leaned in for a kiss as he hitched Mycroft’s leg over his waist, pressing in.

Mycroft clung to him, tears in his eyes as he was overwhelmed by the pleasure and the love.

“All right?” Greg murmured against his lips, slowing the pace he was pushing in at. 

“More than. It’s been so long.” Mycroft wrapped his arms around him and kissed him tenderly.

Greg rocked gently, pushing in a bit more. “I want you to ride me later.”

“We have all the time to do so,” whispered Mycroft, running fingers through his hair.

“Yes we do,” Greg said and thrust forward, bottoming out with a groan. 

Mycroft reached between them to grasp his own cock. “Yes. Please.”

Greg sped up, huffing a smile against Mycroft’s throat. 

Mycroft moved with him, feeling himself grow close. 

Greg nipped gently. “I can feel you getting closer,” he breathed, reaching between and covering Mycroft's hand with his own, stroking him. “Come love.” 

Mycroft muffled his cry against Greg’s shoulder.

“That’s it, love,” Greg grunted. “God, yes. I'm close. Come here.” He rolled onto his back, pulling Mycroft to his chest and thrusting up. 

Bracing himself on Greg’s chest, Mycroft rode him hard, feeling the moonlight soaking into his skin.

Greg met his thrusts, pumping his hips, and came with a quiet grunt. 

“My Gregory,” murmured Mycroft, leaning in to kiss him.

Greg smiled, kissing him deeply. “Well, that was worth waiting for.” 

“I can change now, I can feel it. Will you stay here, with me?”

“You're not going to go home to your family?” Greg questioned. 

“I don’t have a place there anymore.”

“Will you at least write your brother?” Greg asked, shifting, pulling Mycroft to his side with a content hum. 

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” Greg reached over, dragging Mycroft’s cloak to cover them. “Should we stay here for a while?” 

“This would be more comfortable than sleeping on gold.”

“I'm sure there is enough room for you to share my bed.” Greg chuckled. “But we could go down to the bathing rooms. Or get you some food.” 

“A bath and then your bed.”

“Sounds lovely. But let's lay here for a bit longer.”

**

Anthea came in to wake them an hour before sunrise, smiling at the pair. 

Mycroft stretched. “Anthea, thank you.”

“You're welcome. The curse is broken then?” 

“I truly hope so,” he smiled. “How are our guests?”

“Sleeping. As they will remain for a few more hours. Enough time for me to be sure it was broken.” 

“Let’s go to the treasure room. If I can change under my own will, then we’ll know.”

“We can do that,” Greg said, nodding. “Ah..Anthea. If you don't mind,” he said, tossing his head toward the door. “unless you want an eyeful.” 

Anthea shook her head and bowed out.

Mycroft kissed him, then got up. “Come on. I remember how to do this.”

“I'd hope so,” Greg replied with a quiet chuckle as he dressed.

They made their way to the throne room. Stripping out of his clothes, Mycroft took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and changed.

Greg breathed out as Mycroft changed, scales and tail and wings rippling into existence without any hint of pain. 

Mycroft gave a dragony smile, clacking his claws on the ground. “Excellent.”

“Feeling good?” Greg asked, grinning. 

“Better than in a long time.”

Greg stepped forward. “Drop your head a little.”

Mycroft obeyed, and Greg wrapped his arms around his neck, hugging him. “I'm happy for you.” 

Mycroft nuzzled him gently.

Greg stepped back, still smiling. “Glad you're really free now.” 

“I'm glad for you.” He stepped back to change to human.

“Prince Mycroft, good to see you again,” Greg said, bowing his head with a funny smile. Breakfast, then?” 

Mycroft reached for his clothes. “Yes. Perhaps not a whole lamb this time.”

Greg laughed, and stepped forward for a kiss. “Perhaps not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)


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